Those Three Words
by Wolf Blossom
Summary: What is love? Was it the way Hermione looked at him with her big innocent brown eyes? Or was it the way his heart raced when they walked down the corridors holding hands? Whatever it was, Draco wanted to know: What exactly does love mean? One Shot.


They were just three words that Draco Malfoy could not bring himself to say. Perhaps it was because he grew up in a household that taught him every emotion and every feeling in the book _other_ than what people referred to as love. What was it supposed to _be_ exactly? Draco knew the dictionary definition of what the word meant:

"Love, noun, a profound tender, passionate affection for another person. Love, verb, to have love or affection for."

But what _was_ it?

Was it when Hermione Granger looked at him with her big brown eyes, sparkling with innocence and admiration? Was it love when his heart raced uncontrollably in his chest when they had held hands as they walked through the corridors of their boarding school? Perchance it was how her arms snaked around his torso and the way her lips fit onto his. Was it all those feelings that established the fact that Draco was in love with his girlfriend?

As the son of a former Death Eater (and being a former one himself), Draco found it hard to voice his opinions and emotions. He was still battling his own demons and trying to heal his own scars and he didn't want to burden Hermione with either of the two; she was _his_ shining light at the end of the tunnel. She was the reason he was able to forget what Voldemort had him do, forget his orders to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Just simply forget.

The 1991 admits to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been out of school and officially graduated for almost five years. Last Draco knew, Harry Potter had gone on to become a fully licenced Auror and Ron Weasley had made it into a major league Quidditch team. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom both retuned to Hogwarts as professors and something about Ginny Potter, née Weasley, and being a stay-at-home-mother. Blaise Zabini worked in the Trauma Unit at St. Mungo's Hospital; Pansy Parkinson married a nobody-knew-who from Durmstrang Institute and worked as a reporter in the Daily Prophet.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were, ironically, personal bodyguards for Kingsley Shacklebot; Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were maneaters that never settled down and neither could find a man that they were with for more than one month at a time.

Hermione Granger had quickly become a world renown (as if she already wasn't) alchemist. She was taken under the wing of Severus Snape and quickly climbed the ladder, perfecting already perfect potions and creating the uncreatable. She worked closely with the ghost of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim and Isaac Newton—both of which proved to be excellent teachers.

And Draco Malfoy?

Draco Malfoy expanded his name, bringing pride to his family and fixing the damages his father had done. He expanded the Malfoy Empire, branching into the Muggle world with the help of his long-time girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Draco bought a fleet of cargo ships that acted as a gateway between the Muggle community and the wizarding world (he brought supplies to and fro from Durmstrang Institute and Beaxbatons Academy). Draco also invested a large sum of money into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and provided a hefty amount to the Defense Against the Dark Arts program. Draco also founded "Misfit Heartstrings," a center for students that were either Muggle born or had a Muggle parent. It helped them cope with bullying and helped them with ways to boost their self-esteem.

Draco was a successful man and it was all thanks to Hermione.

He cared about her, treasured her, and strived to make her happy but was it love? He wasn't even sure he knew what it _actually_ meant. His mother, Narcissa, said she loved Lucius but all he was growing up was a first class arse. Draco, who was staring at a moving picture of him and Hermione on their Mediterranean Cruise from the previous year, pondered the meaning of the word _love_ when he should've been looking at reports from his cargo ships. He was at his office in Surrey and was planning returning to Wiltshire, back to the Malfoy Manor, after he picked up Hermione. She had an important three-day conference at an unmarked building regarding something to do with alchemy.

"Sir!"

Draco looked up to see Kreacher, his family house elf, standing at the doorway of his office. Sitting up, Draco raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Kreacher?"

The grotesque elf waddled forward with an envelope clutched in his hand. Draco's eyes flickered to it and he noted the red wax seal of Hogwarts School; _what could the school want by sending me a letter?_ Was the first thought that popped into Draco's head. Kreacher slide the envelope on top of Draco's desk before bowing and taking his leave. The successful CEO wizard businessman waited until Kreacer was gone before picking up the envelope. He read his name that was written in perfect cursive script on the envelope before, neatly, pulling the flap free from the wax seal.

_Dear Draconis L. Malfoy,_

_You are cordially and formally invited to the five-year Hogwarts reunion for the 1991 first-year admits. As your graduation year was also avidly partaking in the Wizarding War, Hogwarts School has felt that it would be a pleasant surprise if all members of the graduating year could make it to the reunion. This event, however, would not have been made possible if it weren't for Mr. Malfoy's generous donation to the school, in particular to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class._

_As such, I am requesting if you would honour us with a speech at the reunion. The event will be held the evening of June 21__st__. We are anxiously awaiting your presence._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress, Hogwarts School_

Draco's lip twitched into a cocky smirk. "Reunion, hmm?" He said to himself. "I wonder if Granger has an invite." He threw the letter precariously into the top left drawer of his desk and leaned back in his chair once again. His eyes focused on the picture of him and Hermione in time to see her place a playful kiss on his cheek. His cocky smirk turned into wistful smile. _Maybe I should take her to the Caribbean this year._

Sighing heavily, Draco reached up to loosen his tie and used his other hand to wave his wand. He had his files fly onto his desk and his blinds flew open, allowing the afternoon light to pour into his office. With a quick glance, Draco noted it was a half-past one and he had approximately two hours before he had to leave and pick Hermione up from work. He was going to drive there like a Muggle (something he learned right before he graduated Hogwarts). In fact, driving to pick up Hermione—actually, driving in _generally_ was something he did a lot. Sure flying was _fun_, but driving drew less attention.

"Two hours," he muttered to himself. "Granger had better make me some of her chicken pasta tonight—that stuff is _so_ good."

_.xx._

Draco and Hermione returned to her apartment before deciding to Floo to the Malfoy Manor. They quickly discussed the upcoming Hogwarts Reunion and their conversation was a ping-pong match between whether they were going to go (Hermione's choice) or _not_ go (Draco's choice).

"All of our friends will be there," Hermione said softly as she pushed some of his bangs out of his eyes just before entering the Floo network. "It'll be fun to see them again."

Draco snorted, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her forehead, lingering for a little bit.

_Was this love?_

"We saw the Potters last week, the Zabini's a few days before, we had dinner with Theodore and Tracey, went to Ron and Lavender's baby shower, _I_ went to Viktor Krum's _bachelor_ party two weeks ago and a day before _that_ was Millicent's _bachelorette_ party." Draco, this time, kissed the tip of Hermione's nose. "We've seen _enough_ of our _friends_, Granger. How about we get some time to ourselves?"

Hermione playfully hit his chest. "But McGonagall wants you to give an honorary speech."

"McGonagall also wanted me to give up being a Death Eater long before I even _was_ one," Draco said rather dryly. "She can't always get what she wants."

"But I can," Hermione murmured as she got up on her tiptoes and planted her lips on Draco's. "Please, baby? I really want to go. I mean if you're busy I'll understand… I just want to see _everybody_ again. We haven't really had a get together since ever."

Dejectedly, Draco sighed. He could never say no to her—she never asked him for _anything_ to begin with, so when she really wanted something he _had_ to give it to her.

_Was this love?_

"I want to go," he insisted. "I just don't want to give a bloody speech. What in Merlin's white beard do I say?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Merlin's white beard?"

"Shut up Granger," Draco muttered gruffly. "How about we figure this out later. Mother's waiting for us and the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back, and the sooner I can get me some pasta."

Hermione shook her head. She didn't know whether she should laugh at Draco's childish antics or worry for him. Sure, he was a successful man that proved that the Malfoy's weren't all that bad—he brought honour back to their family after the Great War and was ensuring that the Malfoy's remained in a positive light.

But he was a child.

That apparently loved chicken pasta.

"Draco," she mumbled cutely as they stepped into the green flame. "I love you."

And as always, something he had been doing in the year and a half that Hermione had been saying those three words, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.

_.xx._

Hermione and Lucius had taken up in the family room to play the greatest battle of brains ever known to man: chess. Hermione had emasculated Lucius and he had to redeem himself by defeating a woman that was his son's age in chess. Draco had taken the opportunity to speak to his mother about something that had been on his mind a lot.

Narcissa handed her son a cup of tea and eased herself onto the armchair in Lucius' study. "What's on your mind?" she asked as she took the first sip of her tea.

"Love," Draco immediately responded and Narcissa was taken off guard. "What is it?"

After taking a moment to comprehend what her son said, Narcissa put her teacup down. "What do you mean?"

"Do you love father?"

Narcissa studied her son for a moment and nodded. "I do love your father. Very much so. Why do you ask?"

"How do you know?"

Narcissa suddenly understood what Draco meant. His questions weren't without reason; her son was constantly thinking about something and his questions weren't ever asked just for the sake of asking. Draco always had a reason behind everything—a method behind his madness.

"Does this have something to do with Miss Granger?"

Draco's eyes locked with his mother's and he slowly took a sip of his tea. It was chamomile and lemon ginseng, something his mother made on rainy days during his childhood years. Those were the nights when Draco knew his father was out doing Voldemort's bidding and, to get his mind off of everything, Narcissa would make him tea and tell him stories of when she was younger. Draco learned about the mischief his mother and Aunts Andromeda and Bellatrix got into during their adolescent years.

"Maybe," Draco shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "It's more about myself." He took another sip and let the scent of the tea bring back memories from his childhood. "You know the atmosphere I grew up in. You and Lucius never did anything that really showed _love_."

Narcissa leaned forward. "You know love when you feel it. I can't tell you what it is because for everyone it's different."

Draco watched her and nodded slowly before taking another sip of tea. "Hermione tells me she loves me. She has been, for a while."

Smiling, Narcissa picked her cup of tea back up and sipped delicately. "She has, has she? For how long?"

Shrugging, Draco tore his gaze away from his mother. "A year. Maybe more. But I don't say it back." Draco knew he answered his mother's next question. "I don't know what it means."

"Does your heart go crazy when you're around her?"

Draco nodded, albeit slowly. It was strange having this conversation with his mother but he knew he couldn't go to anybody else. Lucius would tell him to grow a pair of balls and figure it out himself. Narcissa was always there for Draco and even though he felt really awkward asking her the questions he was, he knew that he couldn't go to anybody else in the world.

"Does she make you feel things you never have?"

Exasperated, Draco exhaled loudly. "She does. She haunts my dreams every night, if I don't hear her voice at least _once_ in the day I feel like something's missing. I feel threatened when I see her talking to guys I don't know, she relaxes me, riles me up." Draco's voice began to decrescendo as he spoke. His eyes, which had been fixated on his mother, began to slowly lower. Narcissa smiled and stood up, approaching her son.

"She makes you feel things that no woman is capable of, correct?"

He nodded.

"She holds the key to your very existence. She could make or break you and you trust her with the one thing most important to you: your heart." Narcissa dropped to her knees in front of her soon and looked into his beautiful grey eyes; it was a trait he got from his Malfoy blood. "You trust her to never hurt you, just as she trusts _you_ never to hurt her."

Draco let out a strangled groan. "Yes. But why can't I say it?! Does it mean that I _don't_ love her?"

Narcissa smiled knowingly. "No, son, it doesn't mean you don't love her. It means that your heart is not familiar with the emotions she awakens within you. You're confused, the idea of loving and caring for somebody is foreign to you—"

Draco cut his mother off. "But we've been together since our days at Hogwarts. How can this all _still_ be foreign to me?"

"Because you've just begun to embrace it. Previously, she was trying to break through your cold exterior and now that she _has_, you're uncertain about everything. Trust this," Narcissa pointed at his chest indicating that she was referring to his heart. "Not _this_." She brought her finger up to his head. "Trust your instincts, not rationality, and you'll be fine."

Draco nodded, not knowing what his mother meant exactly but having an idea of what he could be. They both stood up and, without missing a beat, Narcissa embraced her son into a warm hug. He had grown up to be a wonderful boy and she was glad that his childhood didn't veer him in the wrong direction. He was an honest man that worked hard to keep his family honour, and managed to capture the heart of the most wonderful witch of their era. Narcissa was proud to say that her son was son of the year—the epitome of perfect.

Granted any mother would say that about their son.

Pulling back, Narcissa quickly reached for her left ring finger and slid off her wedding band and engagement ring. Draco watched, eyes slowly widening as his mother put her wedding band back on and held out her emerald engagement ring. "It's been in the Malfoy family for _years_," she said as she brought Draco's hand up. "Your grandfather gave it to your grandmother, and your _great _grandfather gave it to your great grandmother. It's time for the ring to pass on to the next generation." Narcissa closed Draco's fingers over the ring. "When you realize what love is, you'll know what to do with the ring."

Draco was speechless. Narcissa retrieved her tea and asked if they should see who won the chess game. Not finding his voice, Draco could only nod and follow his mother to where Hermione and Lucius were having their match. The ring, still clutched in his hand, began to feel heavier and heavier.

_Was this love_?

_.xx._

"You beat father," Draco repeated for the fifth time. "Three games in a row."

He was lying down on Hermione's couch as she prepared him his favourite chicken pasta. Poking her head in through the kitchen door, Hermione grinned goofily at her boyfriend. "I feel like Voldemort should've given you Death Eater's lessons in chess. It's all_ strategy_, Draco."

Rolling his eyes, Draco waggled his finger midair. "Voldemort probably wouldn't be able to tell a rook from a pawn."

Hermione shook her head and went back into the kitchen. As she stood at the counter, chopping some bell peppers, she felt Draco's arms come around her waist and his lips pressing against the back of her neck. Immediately, her hair stood on end and her body melted into his hold—everything about him was so familiar, his lips, his touch, the contours of his body. It was as if he was made _for_ Hermione and nobody else.

"Need help?" He whispered and Hermione giggled.

"Sure, can you stir?"

"Yes, Captain Granger." He playfully hit her butt and walked over to the stove to do as he was told. He removed the lid and was attacked by a hurtling cloud of steam. Scrunching his nose, Draco waited for the attack to subside before he started stirring the pot of chicken sauce that Hermione was going to incorporate with her pasta dish.

"How was work?"

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see Hermione's profile; she was focusing on the peppers she was chopping but still managed to inquire about his day.

_Was this love?_

"Same rubbish, different dustbin."

Hermione chortled at his very English analogy. Draco's lips twitched into a small smirk and he glance down at the pot—the sauce was bubbling and it took all control he had not to dip a finger into the sauce and taste it. Hermione's cooking was the best _ever_. "One of our ships sank but Durmstrang was able to use a recovery spell to fix it."

Hermione nodded. "Did you ever figure out why the ships couldn't get through the Baltic Sea?"

"There was a shield dome spell cast over the sea," Draco said. "It prevented any ship that was associated with magic to pass through. Something to do with defence tactics. We were able to get the counter spell and managed to make it through."

Hermione approached him with her cutting board. She had her peppers, neatly julienned, on top of it and shoved Draco over with her hip before putting the peppers into her chicken sauce. "So all's well that ends well?"

"Exactly." Draco took the opportunity to kiss her cheek. "How do you want to get to the reunion next week?"

"Floo?"

"I was thinking of driving in with my fancy Aston Martin and give Potter something to be envious about," Draco grinned stupidly. "In fact, give everybody who's familiar with the Muggle world something to be envious about. How many of our classmates do you think_ own_ an Aston Martin?"

Bemused, Hermione could only shake her head. "Only the ones that are named Draco Malfoy and that own a fleet of cargo ships and various other companies."

"So just me." He sounded so smug.

"You're ridiculous," Hermione rolled her eyes as she checked to see if her pasta was el dente. Still a few more seconds. "But I _guess_ that's why I love you."

"You guess?!" Draco mocked hurt.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him before ushering to the table. "Set the table. If you're going to make _me_ cook, may as well make yourself useful. And I expect the dishes to be washed before you leave tonight."

"Yes, boss."

_.xx._

Hermione once told him that it was okay if he didn't feel like he loved her; she knew he cared about her and that was all that mattered to her. Draco was vehemently angered by what she said and assured her that he cared about her more than anything in the world and that the word 'love' still confused him. Hermione responded by saying that she loved him more than anything and would wait as long as it took for him to be comfortable with the concept himself.

Draco was on his bed back at the manor. He finished dinner, helped Hermione clean up, ended up tumbled on her bed and made love to her beautiful body and wonderful soul. Her screams echoed through the apartment and her body writhed under him, responding to every touch, caress, and lick. Their bodies merged into one and nothing had ever made Draco feel so complete ever—Hermione was perfect in every way.

_Why can't I say I love her?_ He thought, thoroughly angered by the fact he couldn't _bring_ himself to say those three words. He was positive Hermione _knew_. It was in every action he did and every word he uttered but he couldn't bring himself to _say_ the words.

Draco closed his eyes and imagined a life without Hermione Granger—a life that wasn't filled with sunshine. In the world he pictured he wasn't successful and happy. He was a follower of blood supremacy and was on a quest to resurrect Voldemort.

He had no family and no friends… no _happiness_.

Draco slowly opened his eyes and blinked, trying to adjust his pupils to the darkness in his room. A world without Hermione wasn't a world worth living in. They were enemies that become friends and eventually lovers and she meant _everything_ to him. She expected nothing and he gave her everything he could, everything in his _power_. If she wanted a Jupiter, he'd somehow manage _that_. He'd compress the gasses on Jupiter at such a degree that they'd _become_ rocks.

He loved how she smiled, the way a corner of her lip first twitched before she smiled. Her eyes, how they softened and focused solely on him, the way everything in her world seem to disappear when they were together. He loved her hair. Sure, he teased her about it every now and then but he loved running his fingers through them, playing with her tendrils, tucking her locks behind her ear. He loved her neck, especially the beauty mark on the left juncture. It also, conveniently, happened to be her tender spot as well. She writhed in pleasure whenever he kissed her there.

He loved her fingers. They were long, soft, and delicate yet he knew that she was capable of much destruction (point: she broke his nose in third year). He loved how much she cared for her nails, keeping them neatly cut and polished with a new nail lacquer every week. He loved her sense of style, her devotion to exercise, her habit in trying to maintain a healthy diet and admired her determination to have _him_ maintain a healthy diet.

Lazily, Draco smiled subconsciously. "Hermione," her name tumbled from his lips so naturally. "Hermione Jean Granger." His heart began pounding—"Hermione… Jean Malfoy?"

His heart stopped altogether.

The image in his head changed. He now pictured Hermione staring lovingly at him at an altar. A veil covered most of her face but he could still make out her features and her smile remained. They were getting married, wedded by Minerva McGonagall. The image in Draco's mind continued as he and Hermione kissed, sealing their vows and he carried her out of the venue. A limousine waited, enchanted of course, for the newlyweds to enter securely before flying off into the evening sky.

The scene changed to a very pregnant Hermione laughing as they painted, the Muggle way, the new nursery in the Malfoy Manor. Cans of pink, blue, and yellow were scattered throughout the room and Hermione lunged to attack Draco with a soaking paintbrush. He tumbled over a box and Hermione managed to get a streak of paint on his cheek and then ran away laughing.

His imagination fast forward to him holding a little boy with blond hair and tender brown eyes. _Their _baby.

_This is love_.

Draco sat up suddenly, his heart pounding against his chest. "I love her," he said aloud so he could hear himself. "I love Hermione. I _love_ Hermione."

The more he said it, the more real the feeling was. He glanced to his nightstand and saw the Malfoy ring glistening—where it found the light to _glisten_ from was beyond him, but he took it as a sign. He loved Hermione Jean Granger.

Now, to let _her_ know.

_.xx._

Just as Draco said, he flew in his Aston Martin to Hogwarts and indeed, as he predicted, he made heads turn. Harry was unable to close his jaw and the mini-Potters that followed him stopped to see what their father was staring at. Draco got out of the car and made his way over to Hermione's side; he held the door open for her and offered her his hand. "My lady," he winked.

"Classy," Hermione laughed as she took his outstretched hand and got out of the car. Draco was _such_ a show off.

Some things really _didn't_ change.

"What the hell, mate," Blaise Zabini approached them grinning like an idiot. "When did you get _that_?"

"A few weeks ago," Draco responded with the same Slytherin-grin Blaise was adorning. His arm, naturally, snaked around Hermione's waist as the three went up to the open front doors. They entered the atrium where the 1991 first year admits were slowly pouring in, mingling and catching up. Daphne Greengrass spotted Draco and started shoving her way over. She stopped when she saw that he had Granger in his arms.

"You hooked up with the mudblood?!" Daphne roared as she finally wrestled her way over to where Blaise, Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom, Draco, and Hermione were standing. Neville rolled his eyes, he knew of Daphne's whoreish ways.

Well, everyone did.

"Her name is Hermione," Draco said languidly. Hermione had shivers run up her spine—he was extra hot when he acted languid and nonchalant. "And I began dating her towards the end of our sixth year," he said smugly. "It's been quite a number of a month of Sundays."

Daphne paused. "A month of _what_?"

Draco only smirked in her direction before turning to Hermione and saying: "Come, darling, we have important people to meet."

"He acts like he owns the place," Daphne muttered as Draco and Hermione walked off and Theodore crossed his arms.

"He _does_, Greengrass. He donated ninety percent of the funds Hogwarts is using. This place belongs to him now."

Neville and Blaise exchanged looked and both decided to walk away before they laughed in Daphne's face. Ignorance really _was_ bliss.

Draco and Hermione were intercepted by Madam Sprout who wanted to personally thank Draco for his large donation and Hermione for discovering unknown properties of iron that could be used to fertilize Flesh Eating Pigmy Plants. Draco bit his tongue _extra_ hard not to make a rude comment about the plant's name. Manners were another thing he had to thank Hermione for. Once upon a time, he would've spewed out something along the lines of 'Well why doesn't it eat _your_ flesh, you pigmy.'

Madam Sprout waddled off and Hermione nudged Draco. "Go on. Say it."

He grinned mischievously at her. "Why Granger, I am appalled you'd think I was thinking of something rude."

"Nothing about why the plant isn't eating her flesh?"

"I'm actually not at all surprised at how well you know me." He muttered as he leaned over to kiss her temple. "It's rather endearing, Granger."

"I knew you well enough the first moment I saw you when we were ten." She snickered and he could only laugh. It was probably true too; he was as readable as an open book.

"That's not surprising either." He managed to murmur before Justin Finch-Fletchley stopped in front of them with a brand new Nixon camera.

"Hey you two! Long-time no see!"

_Which is exactly the reason why this reunion was called, idiot._ Draco though. He was never fond of the Justin character and it wasn't because he had Muggle blood in him. Oh Merlin no, Draco had an institute to help children who were bullied for that sole reason.

No, he didn't like Justin.

Maybe because Justin had a crush on Hermione in their fifth year? Yeah, that was probably it.

"I was at the fund raiser for Misfit Heartstrings, Malfoy." Justin beamed and Draco nodded curtly.

"I'm glad to hear that. Did you enjoy yourself?"

He was trying to maintain composure and Hermione gently squeezing his arm helped him. He just _did not_ like Justin.

"Very much so. I will be donating a hefty amount; I'm surprised that you of all people decided to—"

"Alright, that's enough. Let's go to the Great Hall." Hermione diffused the situation before a situation _could_ occur, leaving a dumbstruck Justin and an amused Draco. They managed to make it to the Great Hall (after being stopped by a few more classmates, including the Potters and Weasleys) and weaved their way over to the Ravenclaw table. This was only because Hermione wanted to sit with the Gryffindors and Draco wanted to sit with the Slytherins but neither wanted to sit away from each other and they both agreed that they weren't going to sit at Hufflepuff.

Padma Patil was shaking her head in amusement and Draco simply glowered at her.

"Welcome, students of the 1991 admission." Minerva's voice echoed through the Great Hall and quieted down the adults and their children. "We weren't planning on hosting a reunion but seeing as the majority of you participated in the Wizarding War, we felt that it would be appropriate to do so. Dinner will be served momentarily and after that we can mingle around and catch up with our old friends." Minerva's eyes landed on Draco and he nodded. "Before we serve our feast, I would like to call upon Mister Draconis Malfoy, our generous donor, to say a few words."

Draco stole a kiss from Hermione (which caused a few of the Ravenclaw girls to sigh dreamily), before getting up and making his way to the podium. He briefly hugged his old Transfiguration Professor (now Headmistress) and turned to the sea of people watching him.

"I don't know what to say," he shrugged as he played with the lapel of his dress shirt. "I had to give back to the school that gave me so much. Many of you may have thought—probably still _do_ think—that I'm an arse, pardon my French," He saw Ginny Potter cover the ears of her youngest daughter, Lily. Draco wanted to laugh _really_ loudly but refrained from doing so. "But I've changed."

Alas.

His eyes landed on Hermione.

"And that's because of one person."

Hermione's heart began racing and slowly her hand went up to cover her mouth. What was Draco _doing_?! She knew he had a speech but she wasn't counting on having a special mention!

"I had an epiphany last night," Draco admitted to his fellow classmates. "About our past. About the war." He gulped, visibly sweating. He didn't _do_ these things but in his heart, he knew it was right. He knew what his mother meant now: follow his heart, not his brain. "About the friends we lost and the friends we gained." Draco was referring to house unity and, how after the war, all the houses had shook hands and became allies.

Not enemies.

"I realized that if I didn't have Hermione in my life, I would've advocated blood supremacy and tried to do all of Voldemort's bidding." His palms were clammy and everything around him dissolved.

It was just him.

And Hermione.

_His_ Hermione.

"I'm sure this isn't the kind of speech that anybody was expecting but I have to—" his voice cracked and Hermione stood up, a soft gasp escaping from her clamped mouth. She wanted him to stop humbling himself—he didn't _have_ to. She knew he cared, she knew she meant the world to him. He didn't have to do what he was doing to prove it…

He already proved how special she was.

"I have to say this," Draco said after clearing his throat. "I have to tell you that I don't deserve you. You're the kindest, sweetest, smartest, most beautiful witch in _history_ and you picked me over everybody else. I won't deny that I was one of… well, _everybody_ who thought you were going to get knocked up by Weasel."

The group collectively laughed, including Hermione and Ron.

Draco inhaled shakily. "But you picked me, a Death Eater at that time… the son of Lucius Malfoy and a follower of Voldemort. You found something within me and you never gave up hope. You even found a reason to love me." Draco paused, trying to calm his nerves. "_Me_… Draco Malfoy. I never thought I'd have a woman love me as much as you do and I don't think any woman in the _world_ can love their partner as much as you love me."

Hermione was visibly shaking and sat down again. Padma wrapped an arm around Hermione and she appreciated the gesture.

All of this was so overwhelming.

"You deserve so much better," Draco's voice fell to a whisper but it still echoed throughout the Great Hall. "But I'll be damned if I let you go."

That was the moment Draco was waiting for.

Everything was so perfect…

He gently pulled his pants up before dropping down to one knee. The room gasped and tears began pouring down Hermione's cheeks.

"I love you, Hermione."

He said it. For the first time in his life Draco was able to a woman—tell _Hermione_ that he loved her. And it felt right, as if it was meant to be.

So natural.

"And I want to spend the rest of our lives showing you just how much I love you. You've loved me, a former Death Eater and a man incapable of love, and showed me all that is right in the world when you could've loved another. It's my turn to show you how amazingly perfect you are… will you let me, as my wife?"

The tears streaming down Hermione's eyes accentuated the light shining from her soft orbs. She lowered her hands that were clamped over her mouth to reveal the smile within her tears. It was then that Draco knew. He just… _knew_. And it was perfect.

_This, this is love._

_.xx._

**Dedicated to my best friend, CherryWolf-chan.**


End file.
